Louvaen popped a dried rosemary leaf into her mouth and chewed until the astringent herb made her tongue tingle. “Is that a general statement or just a reference to his revolting concoction?”
Ballard chuckled and came to stand behind her. “Hard to say with him. He’d be wrong if it were the first. I’m not at all sorry for kissing every part of you. I intend to do it as often as possible.” He caressed the length of her arm, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in its wake. “If the second, well, I’m willing to take the risk.”
Louvaen’s eyes drifted to half mast. She craved his touch; far more seductive than anything she imagined or dreamed. “As much as I hate to admit he’s right, you’d do well to heed his warning.” She spat the chewed herb into the fire, thankful to only taste its cool, sharp flavor. “Drink that disgusting stuff and you can slay a dragon just by breathing on it.” She smiled when she caught sight of his attire from the corner of her eye. Like her, he had retrieved one of the blankets and wrapped it around his middle. It rode low on his hips, emphasizing his lean waist and wide shoulders. “Catch a touch of the chill in the hall, did you?”
He slid an arm around her waist and urged her against him until she stood within his embrace, her back to his chest. He buried his nose in her hair. “More like a touch of prudence. I have to return to my room and dress. Ambrose doesn’t much care if I’m flashing my bits, but if I encounter your fair sister during an attempted rescue, things could get...awkward.”
The image of such a scenario made her laugh. The laughter turned to sighs as Ballard pushed aside locks of her hair to place a line of kisses that started at her nape and danced across the slope of her shoulder. Louvaen laid her hands over his, tracing the bony knuckles and dark nails. “I wish we could stay here all night.” Longer even, but she kept the thought to herself, fearful of the emotions welling inside her. How tempting it was to succumb to the fantasy of remaining at Ketach Tor, looking forward to long nights in this man’s arms and countless days spent in his company.
His arms tightened around her, hard enough to make her squeak. He loosened his grasp and nuzzled the underside of her jaw. “Your wishes are far more modest than mine, Louvaen,” he whispered in her ear. “Come to my chamber this evening.” The knot she’d tied in her blanket came undone under his hand and fell to the floor. She shivered at the contrast of cold air washing over her body and the heat of his palm where it rested on her belly. “You’ll not sleep much,” he warned, “but you’ll be warm beneath me.”
She sagged in his embrace, moaning softly as his fingers slid lower and slipped between her thighs to stroke and tease. Ballard scooped her up, intent on her carrying her to the bed when another knock resounded on her door. Louvaen choked back a snarled “go away!” when she heard Cinnia’s muted voice.
“Lou? Lou, it’s me. Are you awake?”
Ballard halted and set Louvaen down. She put a finger to her lips. They were acting like lady and stablehand creeping about her bedchamber, but she didn’t feel up to explaining to an outraged Cinnia why having Ballard in her room was quite different from letting Gavin’s into Cinnia’s. Ballard rolled his eyes but did her bidding when she motioned for him to hide out of sight.
“Louvaen, wake up! I’m worried.”
Louvaen found her night rail and shrugged it on, uncaring that it was inside out. “Coming, my love,” she called. “Give me a moment.” Unlike Ballard, who had thrown the door wide to greet Ambrose, she eased it open barely enough for Cinnia to catch a glimpse of her.
The girl’s shoulders sagged. “Thank the gods, you’re all right.” She frowned as her gaze took in Louvaen’s appearance. “You aren’t sick are you? Because you look like the dead.”
Louvaen scowled at her. “I’m fine, love. I just needed some rest.” She offered a weak smile. “Why don’t you tell Magda I’ll be down for supper after I change my clothes and tame my hair?”
She tried to close the door, but Cinnia pressed her hands against the wood, resisting. Her eyes darkened with worry and lingering fear. “I can help you. Fix your hair or do up your lacings.” She wedged a foot in the doorway. “Let me in, Lou.”
This wasn’t going to be easy. Louvaen had no intention of letting her sister into her room while Ballard lurked in the shadows. Even if he wasn’t, Cinnia would question why the bed linens had been thrashed in a whirlwind. She didn’t have the heart to order her to leave. Ambrose’s words echoed in her mind. Cinnia wanted reassurance her sister had come away from her near drowning unscathed. Louvaen reached out and clasp her sister’s wrist. “Give me the privacy to use the chamber pot, Cinnia.”
Cinnia looked chastened. “Sorry. I’ll wait out here until you’re done.”
Louvaen wanted to bash her head against the door. The soft laughter rumbling from the shadows behind her didn’t help her frustration. She thought fast. “Do me a favor instead. Let me borrow your brush. It works better than mine on the bad tangles.” A trip to Cinnia’s room for a hairbrush would buy Ballard enough time to slip out of her room and out of sight before her sister returned.
Cinnia backed away. “I’ll be right back. Do you need anything else? You’re terribly pale. I have a balm with angelica. It might give your lips some color.”
“That’s fine.” Louvaen shooed her off with a wave of her hand. “Bring whatever you think best.” She closed the door and whirled around, only to find Ballard right behind her.
He caught her to him. “You lie so well,” he taunted.
Louvaen struggled free and took his hand to lead him to the door. “I didn’t lie. Her brush is better than mine.” She cracked door open once more to peek into the hallway. It was deserted, but Cinnia would make quick work of gathering her things. She pulled on Ballard’s arm. “Hurry. She’ll be back in no time.” She gasped when he yanked her into a hard embrace.
“A kiss before I go, dragonslayer.” He leaned in to capture her lips with his.
She clapped a hand over his mouth. “Ballard,” she whispered furiously, “we don’t have time for this.”
He pushed her hand away. “We’ll make time, Louvaen.”
His kiss stole her breath. Her fingers dug into his arms as his tongue thrust into her mouth, gliding over her teeth to entwine with her tongue. Louvaen buried her hands in his hair and promptly forgot her sister, her surroundings and even her own name. He bunched her night rail in his hands, raising it until he could reach under the hem and cup her bottom. She wrapped a leg around the back of his thighs, tangling her foot in the blanket he still wore. She loved his taste in her mouth, his scent in her nostrils. The kiss, at first harsh and aggressive, turned languorous, ending abruptly when the sharp slam of a door cut through Louvaen’s muddled thoughts.
She flinched out of Ballard’s arms, eyes wide. “Cinnia,” she whispered.
“Rosemary,” he replied just as softly.
Louvaen gawked at him. “What?”
Ballard touched his lip. “Rosemary. Hardly something to slay the pretty dragon headed for your door right now.”
She growled and pointed an accusing finger at him. “This is your fault! You’ve made me an addle-pated wanton.” She slapped his hand away when he reached for her. “No you don’t.” Her chance to sneak him out of her chamber before Cinnia arrived had come and gone. Her sister was beautiful, not stupid. She’d grow suspicious at Louvaen’s uncharacteristic nervousness and refusal to let her in her room.
